The Dry Planet
by thedarkpoet
Summary: A short episode that occurs just after Blink. Far away on an alien planet, a woman known as Amora reigns over a population of air-headed, near-permanent tourists and sickening miners. All that's left to wonder about is what exactly they're mining for...
1. Filthy Mines and Glassy Hotels

The planet was a dangerous place.

That's what they told the tourists, anyway. Don't go out on the surface. Don't try to open the windows. And above all, don't go in the mines.

Of course, there were always a few casualities. You couldn't watch people all the time, and every so often someone would stray from their guided tour, never to be seen again. But still the tourists came in droves, flocking to this dry, dirty planet with its mines and its hotels.

The hotels were dotted across the barren earth, stretching up to the sky like shards of glass. Sleek and modern, they were the essence of comfort.

It was the mines that were deadly. The whole planet was riddled with them, long snaking tunnels that formed a maze-like warren just under the planet's skin. It was said that if you wandered through them long enough, you'd eventually find the other side of the world. That was, if you didn't die first.

But if the mines were bad, the miners were worse. Men, women, children, all worked in the mines. At the end of each day they'd clamber out, hacking and coughing and covered in fine black dust.

They were _filthy_.

That was probably why Amora hated them so much.

She was used to comfort and cleanliness. Amora was a child of the stars, born and raised on a Starline RV, all curves and sharp edges. She'd arrived at the Dry Planet several years ago and hadn't left the hotel.

Her suite was spotless, much unlike the ragged group of miners that were trooping across the landscape below. Her lip curled with distaste as she watched them. It was unfortunate that they were necessary, but the mines provided the planet with twelve billion sanddollares each year alone. Closing the minds would mean a massive international deficit.

And besides, it was the mines that drew the tourists. The sheer danger of them was enough to bring sightseers from lightyears around, just observe. Another three billion in tourist sanddollares right there.

Filthiness paid out well. And it paid out especially well to Amora.

Satisfied with her rationalization of the mines, Amora leant back in her chair and tapped her chin thoughtfully.

_Soon._


	2. Rouge Morte

There was a new scuff on her left boot, Lenora noticed with a detached sort of interest. Big one too. Black on black.

Everything Lenora owned was black. Owning an actual colour would be pointless, both because it was not permitted and because a day in the mines turned everything black anyway. When you worked in the mines, clothes were meant to be practical, not beautiful. Beauty didn't save you in a cave-in.

"Move it along!" Lenora stumbled forward as someone shoved her from behind. She took a deep breath from her monoxide tank to calm herself and forced herself to walk at a faster pace. Her left foot ached as she dragged her leg through the sand. Almost there now.

It was an effort to unseal the sagging enviro-bubble that housed Lenora's home. The bubble was ancient and hardly functioned anymore, but it was the only thing that shielded Lenora from the elements.

"I'm home!" she called, yanking off her mono-tank and dropping it by the door seal. "Anyone about?"

There was no response.

"Milly? You in here or what?"

"Nora!" A small girl with brown curls rocketed out of the shack where she and Lenora slept.

"Silly-Milly," Lenora said, "Where's Dad?" Milly looked up at her with a serious expression.

"He got sick."

Lenora's legs wobbled beneath her. She sat down quickly.

"What d'you mean? Did he have a headache-"

"Sick," Milly repeated. "They came and got him. They're going to make him better, right?"

"That's right," Lenora said absently. "Did you hide like I told you to?"

"Yeah! I hid with the trash." Milly giggled, obviously pleased with herself.

"That's good." Lenora paused for a few moments, then decided there was little that could be done. She would simply have to hope her father got better. "Let's get to bed, Milly."

~#~#~

It was a few days before Lenora heard anything about her father. She tried not to think about it, but she couldn't escape the worries that invaded her mind. She warned Milly to be careful everyday, terrified that she might lose her younger sister too.

Milly didn't understand what it meant to have a family member fall ill. Miners were useless if they weren't working. If Lenora's father didn't heal soon, they would execute him. And Lenora would have no parents left.

Her constant fear was that he had somehow contracted the Rouge Morte – the Red Death, a sickness that resulted in a deep chest cough that had its victims gasping for air and coughing up blood. It was a terrible way to go. Because it was so contagious, the wardens would simply throw you out onto the planets surface, without a protective suit or a mono-tank. Death was instantaneous, and remains were blasted to dust – no chance anyone else could pick up the disease.

"I should have noticed he was coughing," Lenora mumbled to herself, slamming her pickax home. "Should have noticed he couldn't walk in a straight line. Should have-" She stopped abruptly as the miner next to her nudged her with his pickax. "Sorry."

"No," he said, his voice rough, "Look."

Lenora looked.

It was a light. Coming towards her.

None of miners were allowed lights.

"No," Lenora whispered. "No, no, _please-_"

"Miner 375 has died this day of the Rouge Morte, otherwise known as the Red Death," one of the light-bearers said in an officious voice. "Miner 412, it is requested that you come to the House of Quarantine to determine if you also have the Rouge Morte."

"No! You can't!"

"Miner 412, you are reminded that failure to comply with the requests of the wardens results in the termination of your employment and the loss of your envrio-bubble."

Lenora burst into tears. She couldn't lose the bubble – it would mean Milly would die. She had no choice at all.

"I-I'll go."


	3. The House of Quarantine

The House of Quarantine was not what Lenora would have expected. It was little more than a warehouse that contained all the sick. There were no separations, no way to differentiate between illnesses. It was the sort of place people waited to die.

Inside, the House of Quarantine was bleak, corrugated steel walls rising to meet a ceiling that was mostly shrouded in darkness. Flickering lights illuminated row upon row of pallets. There must have been at least fifty people there altogether, but the room was silent.

The whole place felt haunted.

"Miner 412, you are now to be known as Patient 078. You will report for a medical examination each day at 1200 hours precisely. You are to be silent at all times. You are not to have any contact with any other patient. Do you understand?" Lenora nodded numbly. "You are assigned to Pallet 054." The two wardens turned and left the buildings, removing their protective masks and gloves as they went.

The instant they had cleared the doors, the chatter began. Lenora slowly made her way down to the floor of the warehouse, searching for Pallet 054. It took only a few moments to find it – each pallet was clearly marked, its number spray-painted in black across the foam.

Lenora was glad just to have somewhere to sit down. She felt frozen, as if the outside world couldn't touch her.

Dad was dead.

Those three words consumed her, but strangely, she didn't feel sad. His death was a bit anticlimactic, after all. She'd spent days worrying about would happen if he died. But the actual events had happened so fast she hadn't had time to even think about it.

All that was left to worry about was Milly. What would she eat, with Lenora gone? Who would make sure she -

"First we get stuck in the 1960's, and now you tell me we've landed on 'The Dry Planet'? What kind of a name is that?" Lenora shook her head. Someone nearby was being _very_ loud.

"That's what it's called!"

"The Dry Planet? You cannot be serious! Who wants to come to a place called The Dry Planet?"

Lenora frowned. These people almost sounded like tourists. If they _were_ tourists, they were a long way from home.

"Who wants to come to a place called Earth? I swear, that's what it's called. Just go and ask someone."

Lenora blinked in surprise. A dark-skinned, very pretty woman had just crouched down in front of her.

"Hello," she said. "Is this planet really called 'The Dry Planet'?"

Lenora gaped.

"Well is it?"

"Yes…"

"Really?" the woman asked. "I'm Martha, by the way."

"Patient 078," Lenora said, remembering what the wardens had told her. "And yes, really. How can you be here and not know that?"

"Long story," the woman said. "Thanks, er, Patient 078." And then she disappeared.

Lenora blinked again.

I must be hallucinating, she decided. She rolled over onto her back and slipped into an uneasy sleep.

~#~#~

It was a relief to wake up the next morning and not have to run off to work first thing. Lenora allowed herself a few moments of just lying there before sitting up. She was surprised to see that the cots on either side of her, vacant the night before, had filled in this morning.

She was about to rise to examine her neighbours when a tinny voice filled the warehouse.

"Patients are reminded that breakfast will be served in T minus 20 seconds." If Lenora hadn't been sitting down, she would have. She'd heard of breakfast, of course, but it was a legend, something that once was. Lenora never expected to _see_ a breakfast, let alone _eat_ one.

The warehouse fell silent as masked wardens streamed in through the double doors at the end of the room. Each was pushing a cart with all sorts of mysterious objects on it – objects Lenora could only assume were associated with breakfast. She waited eagerly as a warden came up to end of her aisle and began handing out food.

By the time the warden reached her, Lenora was just barely keeping herself from drooling. The warden slopped something into a bowl and handed it to her. Lenora took it greedily and was about to pour it down her throat when she noticed that the warden was glaring at her.

"Patient 078, you are reminded that no food is to be consumed until after the morning blood test." Lenora looked at him sourly, but set her food aside. It would do her no good to argue with the wardens – that was like taunting Death.

The warden who had snapped at her was followed by another, this one in a full bodysuit, presumably to protect him from disease. He had a needle several inches long that he stuck into Lenora's arm, hunting around until he found a vein. Lenora watched with a sick sort of fascination as the needle filled with a deep purple substance that she knew to be her blood. It was a strange thing to watch and Lenora felt oddly possessive, as if the warden had taken her arm or her eye. Still, the thought of breakfast kept her silent, and the instant the needle was out of her arm she fell upon her food, devouring it as fast as possible. She was so absorbed in the meal that she almost didn't notice the argument that had started at the pallet next to hers.

"Look, I'm a doctor myself, and I can tell you I'm perfectly healthy!"

Lenora swiveled to see that the speaker was the woman she had seen before – Martha.

Not a hallucination then.

"Patient…" The warden paused. Something that was almost shock appeared on his face. Lenora could have laughed. She'd never seen a warden confused before. "I demand that you identify yourself."

"I-"

"Management inspection," someone else – a man – put in. Lenora was surprised to note that his skin was nearly as pale as that of the wardens. He held up an official looking pass-card.

"Management inspection?" the warden asked.

"That's right. An inspection. By the management." Lenora frowned. If Martha really was part of a management inspection, it seemed unlikely that she wouldn't know where she was.

"But where are your masks? Your gloves?"

"Ah…right. We left them behind. Accidentally."

Lenora snorted. These two were more transparent than one of the glass hotels.

Martha, the strange man and the warden all looked at her. Lenora gazed fixedly at her pallet. After a few moments, they fell to arguing once more and Lenora felt safe to examine them all once more.

The two who were supposedly "inspecting" were definitely odd. Their skin was such strange colours…and their hair! The woman's might have been acceptable, but the man's stood straight up from his forehead in the strangest way. And as is that weren't enough, their clothes were the most peculiar colours – neither black like the miners' nor white like the wardens'.

Lenora didn't know what to make of them.

And that only made them all the more interesting.


	4. Surface Suits

They'd still been arguing with the wardens when Lenora had to leave to be examined. The examination itself had been relatively painless – a quick scan by the biosensors and a few swabs inside her mouth. The whole ordeal had taken less than five moments, and all too soon, Lenora found herself back in the warehouse.

Part of the problem with being quarantined, Lenora had decided, was the mix of boredom and anxiety that accompanied it. The boredom sprang from the lack of work, the anxiety from the possibility of dropping dead at any moment. The combination left Lenora feeling so jittery that it took her a few moments to realize someone was trying to attract her attention.

"…anyone there?"

"What?"

"Ah, she's returned to us." It was the strange man who'd been arguing with the wardens earlier. Lenora had no idea what he might want with_ her, _but –

"D'you mind if I take a quick look at your boot?" Lenora looked down at her boots. As far as she could see, there was nothing wrong with either of them.

"These boots?" she asked, hoping to get some clarification.

"Those are the ones." Lenora shrugged.

"Sure." She folded her legs easily and settled down on her pallet, tugging off her boots as she went. She held them out to the stranger.

"Just the left one will do nicely, thanks." Lenora handed it over, and watched, fascinated, as the stranger pulled a thin rod out of his pocket and pointed it at her boot.

"What's that?" She wished she could take the words back the second she had spoken them. If this man really _was_ management, she'd live to regret the question.

"It's a sonic screwdriver…ah…"

"Patient 078," Lenora filled in helpfully. The stranger paused in his work.

"Oh come on. That's not a proper name."

"Names are not important," Lenora said, reciting what she'd learned from the wardens. "Numbers are what identify us, and numbers can be classified."

"Of course names are important!" Martha, who was seated on her own pallet, snorted.

"This coming from _you_. You don't even have a name."

"I _do_. I don't know what it is with you people – always poking at my name."

"What is your name?" Lenora asked, eager to halt the bickering.

"The Doctor."

"That's not a name," Lenora pointed out. Martha laughed.

"See, she thinks so too."

"Shut up a minute. I'm trying to think. More specifically, I'm trying to think about why you would have liquid phenalphosphate on your boot when we're no where near the Hexate Twelvepropriety."

"What's liquid phenalphosphate?" Lenora was feeling completely out of her depth.

"The Dabragon's use it in all sorts of cosmetics – anti-aging cream, that sort of stuff. It's also a sealent. You might use it in the mines, except that its more than a bit radioactive and would kill you in two seconds flat. So that doesn't explain why its _here_. These mines of yours – what exactly are you looking for?"

"No one knows," Lenora said, idly twisting a bootlace. "Whenever the sensors tell us we're close to something, the wardens take over."

They both stared at her.

"You're trying to tell me that you don't even know what you're mining _for_?" Martha's tone was almost insulting in the measure of disbelief it held.

"If it was important, the wardens would tell us."

"But-"

"Time for activism later," the Doctor said, cutting Martha off. "Right now, I've got some questions, and I'll thank you not antagonize our hosts." He got to his feet – just the two of them, Lenora noticed – and strode over to one of the wardens.

Martha let out an irritated sigh.

"He always does that," she muttered. "_Every_ time."

"What's he going to ask them?"

"How should I know? I don't understand half of what he says."

"But aren't you two…"

"What? Oh, no, no, of course not. No, we're just friends."

"Uh-huh," Lenora said, unconvinced.

"It's true!" Martha seemed eager to convince her. "We just travel together. Run about saving the universe."

"So why are you here then? Are you tourists, or something?"

"Tourists?"

"Well you're either tourists or miners, and you're definitely not miners."

"I can't argue with that. But we're not tourists either – not really."

"If you're not tourists-" Lenora paused. She knew the sounds of an argument from years of long practice sensing them. She half-turned, expecting to see a few of the younger miners starting a fight.

It wasn't a miner at all.

It was the Doctor.

"These people are being exposed to radiation everyday they go into those mines! This girl," he yelled, pointing to Lenora, "has it on her boots, for God's sake!"

"Patient 078 and unidentified Management Inspector, you are charged with disturbing the peace," the warden droned. "You will be removed from the House of Quarantine immediately."

Lenora watched, mouth hanging open, as a warden in a full bodysuit approached her. With unnatural calm he gripped her upper arm and levered her to her feet.

"No – wait! I didn't even say anything!" The warden didn't even acknowledge her, simply dragging her across the floor. "Stop it!" Lenora screamed, battering him with her fists.

She might as well have been hitting a rock.

The warden hauled her to a door set in the corrugated steel walls and kicked it open. The Doctor was already there, secured by three wardens.

Lenora found she couldn't look at him. Instead, she concerned herself with the room. It smelled of metal – clean and harsh, much like the immaculate wardens that were about to throw her to her death.

The smell made her want to cough, but she bit back the urge and remained silent.

It was useless to protest now. If the wardens decided you were involved in something, you were involved. Even if it killed you.

Since she was expecting death, Lenora was more that little surprised when the wardens pulled out two surface suits.

"Patient 078, you are not to return to any space owned by or associated with your employers. The same applies to any unidentified parties present."

The following silence was broken by a gasp from Lenora.

_They were going to let her live!_

Her predicament was still serious, but it was a whole lot better than death. She slipped into the surface suit smiling gratefully at the wardens.

The Doctor was not so relieved.

In fact, he was doing what he'd been doing for the last little while: shouting.

Mostly, he was shouting for Martha, with a few outraged sentences in between.

Lenora ignored him. She walked calmly to the airlock, then watched with mild interest as he was dragged in beside her.

Then, after a process she'd been through a thousand times, they were on the planet's surface.


	5. Breathing

The first thing the Doctor did was howl and run towards the doors of the airlock, pulling out his sonic screwdriver as he went. He pointed it at the doors, running it up along the edges.

Nothing happened.

He calmed down remarkably quickly, slapping the door and turning away.

"Deadlock seal," he explained, as if Lenora had asked.

Lenora wasn't listening. She was scrambling about in the sand, trying to find the mouthpiece of the mono-tank. After a few moments of panic, she found it, stuffing it in her mouth and taking a deep breath.

It was then she noticed that the Doctor hadn't touched his tank.

"Are you crazy?" Lenora screamed, voice muffled by the tank. "Get your tank before you suffocate!"

"Don't need it," the Doctor said. "Pure O two out here. Delicious."

To prove his point, he sniffed the air.

"It'll _kill _you," Lenora pointed out.

"Nope. I can breathe oxygen."

"Don't be stupid. No one can breathe oxygen, not even the tourists."

"I can!"

"How-"

"Not important," the Doctor said, waving her aside. "I'm more concerned with how to get back inside."

"Why would you want to get back inside? You heard the wardens."

"Yeah…I'm not really one for following instructions. Anyway, there's nothing to keep you. Go off and find some friendly tourist who might take you home."

"I can't go home." It was said so quietly that Lenora wasn't even sure if the Doctor had heard it.

"Now," he murmured. "How can I get in?"

"You can't," Lenora said, coughing to clear her throat. "You can't get the air lock open, and if you open it anywhere else, the oxygen will get in and kill everyone."

"Not Martha," he said, but he seemed to see the validity of what Lenora said.

"Why not Martha?"

"She breathes oxygen, like me," the Doctor said absently.

"Well how is she breathing in there then? It's all monoxide."

That made him pay attention.

"It's something to do with my ship. It's provided her with extra reserves of oxygen, as well as resistance to other gases." He paused.

"I see," said Lenora, who didn't see at all. "She's lucky, then."

"No she's not." The Doctor looked haunted. "It'll only last her another few hours."

Oh.

"We need to get back in," he said, going back to the doors."

"Shouldn't we get your ship first?"

"My ship's inside." He didn't look up.

Lenora coughed and crossed her arms. Men were stubborn, but in a few minutes he would realize he really _couldn't_ get in, and then maybe he'd ask her what to do.

It was funny to think of anyone but Milly asking Lenora for anything.

Milly.

She was all alone. Would she have starved by now? Would there be anyone to keep her alive?

Lenora coughed again. The cough felt wet and she pulled the mouthpiece from her mouth. It was slick with liquid.

She coughed a third time and the sand was splattered with purple. The third cough didn't end and she pushed the mouthpiece back into her mouth, desperate for air.

She couldn't breathe and sank to her knees in the sand.

Finally, the cough ended and she sucked down grateful gasps of air.

The Doctor had noticed. He was bending over her and frowning thoughtfully.

"Are you alright?"

Lenora coughed in reply. Her hands were sticky with blood, but the cough brought no more up.

She got to her feet.

_Rouge Morte_.

She knew it, but she didn't say it.

"I'm fine," she said.

"I can't get in," he said, more than a little sheepishly.

"I did tell you," Lenora said, but her heart wasn't in.

"Do you have any better suggestions?"

"I think we should try to find a hotel. That one would be fine." She pointed to the hotel she had in mind, little more than a sliver of light on the horizon.

"Better start walking then."

They walked in silence. Lenora thought about Milly, who must be terrified by now. Poor Milly.. No Dad, and now no Lenora.

Milly was still too young to be registered, so no one would know she was there.

She would die alone.

Lenora began coughing again. The coughs drew the air from her lungs and the strength from her muscles and she collapsed on the ground. Slowly, her own purple blood rose to obscure her vision.


	6. A Cheated Death

When she woke up, someone was carrying her.

It was the Doctor.

"You know, you never told me your name."

Lenora considered it.

She was out of the system now – there were no identifying titles or numbers left for her.

There was only one name left.

"Lenora," she rasped.

And then she fell back into sleep.

The Doctor kept walking, a dying girl in his arms.

~#~#~

For the longest time, the glass hotel seemed to get no closer. So it came as a bit of the shock when the Doctor found himself standing not two feet from the entrance.

Awkwardly, he shouldered the door open and found himself in a glistening lobby. Before he had a moment to glance around, he was confronted by a hologram.

"Greetings, and welcome to one of famous glass hotels of the Dry Planet!" The hologram said chirpily. "Amora hopes you enjoy your stay!"

The hologram flickered out.

The Doctor shook his head. He could worry about who Amora was later.

Right now he had more pressing things to deal with.

"Had anyone got a first aid kit?"

Immediately, a clerk appeared in front of him.

"What's she sick with? Did she touch something on one of the tours?"

"That's it," the Doctor said.

"I'll just give her a swab," the clerk said, producing several plain cotton swabs.

Waiting for results took a few shuddery minutes.

"Too much rad exposure,' was the clerk's final analysis. "Did she live in those mines or something?"

"Or something," the Doctor agreed.

"Easy enough treatment," the clerk said. He pulled out a bottle of pills and forced one down Lenora's throat.

~#~#~

Lenora, who never expected to wake up again, blinked open her eyes.

She was in a glass hotel.

She sat up and the world spun around her.

When it came back into focus, there was strange man staring at her.

"She seems fine."

Lenora hardly kept from laughing. She was more than fine. She was in a glass hotel!

The strange man bustled off.

And then the Doctor came into view.

"So I've saved your life. No need to thank me or anything."

"Thank you," Lenora said, unused to such pleasantries.

"And now that you're definitely not dead, I'm off to save Martha. Bye!"

Lenora was so busy absorbing his first statement that she didn't notice him disappear.

_She wasn't dead_.

That was twice she'd cheated death, all in one day.

She had a feeling her luck might run out soon.

And then she saw the Doctor striding across the lobby.

"Hey! I want to help!"

He didn't stop. Slowly, Lenora wobbled to her feet and ran after him.

"If you want to give me flowers or something, I'm not taking deliveries at the moment."

"I want to help," Lenora repeated.

He turned to face her.

"You can't. Sorry."

"Do you even know where you going?"

That got to him.

"I was planning to just sort of blunder around until I got arrested and taken to someone in charge. It usually works."

She laughed. The whole world seemed funny.

"Don't you want to get a message to Martha?"

"Not possible. I have to find transport first."

Lenora pointed to the hologram booths along the walls.

"I think that might work."


	7. STATUS UPDATE

**STATUS UPDATE:**

I've posted all I have for this story at the moment. I have a vague idea of how this all going end, but the ever vigilant Osprey Eamon has pointed out some discrepancies on my part that I need some time to figure out.

Thank you to all the readers who have persevered thus far, and I hope to have another chapter up by the end of this week at the latest.

**Cheers,**

**thedarkpoet.**


	8. Bananas

They sent off a hologram postcard. The Doctor had hacked into the machine to send the card to every address on the Dry Planet.

They were both hoping it had reached Martha.

"What now?" Lenora asked, trying to get into the spirit of the thing.

"Now…Now we ask questions," the Doctor said, frowning thoughtfully. "Why is there liquid phenalphosphate on your boot? Why did they let us walk into this hotel when, frankly, we're both filthy? Why don't they have any bananas?"

"What are bananas?"

"Not important," he said flapping a hand at her. "What is important: what are you people all mining for?" He turned towards Lenora so fast she nearly leaped backward. "Haven't you seen anything? Anything that might tell you what you're looking for."

Lenora shook her head.

"Hmm. Well, I'm off." He strode away, coat billowing behind him.

"Off where?" Lenora asked, trailing after him.

"Lenora, when even _I_ don't have answers, I find some."

~#~#~

It was a testament to the Doctor's skill that they were arrested a few minutes later.

Lenora knew better than to say anything. The guards who had them this time were not the wardens she was used to, but they had the same air of command.

The Doctor had no such qualms. He'd introduced himself on their arrival and was proceeding to ask them a variety of inane questions.

Most of them were about bananas.

The guards, most of them biting down laughter, put them in a cell.

"I hate cells," the Doctor said to no one in particular. Lenora sat on the floor.

"You're insane."

"So I've been told!" he said cheerfully. He set to work on the door with his sonic screwdriver.

A few seconds later, the door swung open.

"Still got it!"

He charged out into the hallway, Lenora on his heels.

"Let's go and find someone in charge."

**A/N: Very short, I know, but I wanted to have a bit of a lighter chapter and this came out fairly fast, so I thought I'd post it now instead of waiting.**


	9. Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

If Lenora had spared a moment for thought, she would have been amazed at the architecture of the building. The corridors were constructed entirely out of glass, with not a seam or join to be seen. The very walls sent Lenora's reflection back to her.

She was mesmerized. She'd never seen her reflection in anything other than the flat black of the mono-tank. She looked strange, even to herself.

"Do you mind?"

The Doctor had noticed she was no longer paying attention

"Little busy here. Primp later." She scowled at him, but followed. He walked fast, but it was nothing she couldn't keep up with.

"So what exactly are we looking for?"

In front of her, Lenora saw his shoulders shrug.

"Dunno. Anything. Something out of place. Open doors, have a look about. God, I wish Martha were here. _She_ knows what to do."

"Well sorry," Lenora mumbled. "Although, I seem to recall that it was _you_ who got us kicked out of the House of Quarantine."

"That was an – door!"

Lenora turned to it, yanking on the doorhandle.

"It's locked."

"Locks are for the unimaginative," The Doctor said, elbowing her out of the way. He'd pulled out his sonic screwdriver again.

The door sprang open remarkably quickly.

"Ah, an equipment room! I love equipment rooms!"

Lenora did not deign to reply. Instead she stepped inside the room. It was every bit as smooth as the corridor that led to it, but for one difference. Where the hallway had been glass, everything in this room was constructed of some sleek, dark metal. Brushed metal surfaces held up glistening helmets and immaculate surface suits.

Really, Lenora thought, it was all enough to make her feel a little depressed with her own 'top of the line' equipment.

"Monoxide tanks, space suits…C'mon…c'mon…AHA!" The Doctor had ignored the racks of equipment, going straight to the walls. His sonic screwdriver had made short work of one of the metal panels and he ripped it aside, revealing a writhing mass of wires.

"I love you people," he said fondly. "Still using wires. Amazing."

He began digging further into the wall, obviously searching for something. Lenora didn't dare ask what.

"Just a bit…Ah." He yanked a screen of some sort out of the wall, frowning at it.

"What's wrong?"

"Come and see for yourself." He turned the screen towards her. Lenora squinted. It looked like mass of squiggly lines

"Well what's that supposed to be?"

"I don't know," he murmured. "But I'm pretty sure its nothing good – look." He pointed to a red light blinking in corner.

"What is it?"

"Alarm of some kind," he said, dropping the screen. "And it means we should get out of here, right now."

"Too late."


End file.
